Mend
by Hilarious Bread
Summary: A year has passed since the Chitauri attack on Earth, but when Loki falls from Asgard gravely injured there may be more to the story than it seems. Meanwhile, Tony decides to keep an eye on the God of Mischief.
1. Chapter 1

Down the many halls of Stark Tower, muffled music echoed noisily. Unsurprisingly, at the point where these several halls rooted together was the one-and-only workshop of Tony Stark. Within the said workshop among the blaring music, Tony Stark worked, tinkering with the infamous Iron Man suit.

The workshop was where he spent most of his days; save the ones he spent dealing with SHEILD missions, at meetings (Ha, right.), or lounging around with a quality alcoholic beverage. He was currently working on an error in one of his energy repulsers, the left one to be exact, that had misfired earlier that day.

He hummed to the song idly, picking around some of the tedious wiring. It was dark and pouring outside, although the hammering sound droned out all but an occasional thunder strike. The patter of rain from outside was a mere texture on the windows. All was going pleasantly, the best part of the song about to ring out when suddenly the sound became fainter, the rumble of rain finally able to be heard.

Stark looked up with a confused frown. The lights were still on, so it must be a sound system malfunction. He was about to question Jarvis about it when the AI spoke up.

_"Sir, several irregular readings have recently been recorded. I think you may want to take a look at them." _

Tony looked up at the ceiling, his eyebrows creasing. "Jarvis, at the moment all I want is for my music to stay uninterrupted." He set the metal glove down, wiping some access oil onto his pants. "What's so important that I have to deal with it _now_?"

_"If you would take a look out your window,"_ Jarvis responded, a bit sarcastic,_ "you will notice that there is an aurora above Stark Tower which goes northwest for about seven miles," _

Tony snorted a bit at the AI's smug tone. "Are you implying I don't get out enough?" When here was no reply he moved to the window. There was definitely an aurora up among the storm clouds, glowing in pastel-like colors. His eyebrows creased. Definitely not normal. "Yeah, I see it. Is it comparable to any other readings recorded before today?"

_"The readings are closely comparable to the Bifrost's energy signature."_

"Asgard then," he concluded, shoving his hands into his pockets. There was a pause. "Hopefully?"

_"It would seem so."_

"Thor, maybe." He added, watching as lightning entwined with the aurora and spiraled away towards the horizon.

_"That is the most probable conclusion." _There was a small silence. _"Should I prepare the rest of your suit, Sir?"_

Tony smiled, "Jarvis, you know me too well."

Despite the fact that the storm was rough, lightning flashing and wind treacherous, the suit had no troubles rocketing through the rainy gales. The aurora had in fact seemed to sprout from directly above Stark Tower, stretching out far into the distance. He merely flew under the glimmering lights, the winds ripping fruitlessly at his outer shell. The city faded away, the land becoming more deserted as they went on.

It went on like this for a couple miles until the edge of the glowing brilliance finally came into sight, dark clouds swirling around what seemed to be the highest energy reading. He slowed, sweeping closer to the ground. It was much harder to see in the darkness, especially through the harsh rain, the lights of the city far in the distance.

"Scan for anyone." With a distasteful squishing sound, he landed into the muddy ground, beaten with rain. A light snapped up from his shoulder plate, although it only did so much in the swallowing blackness. Tony walked around where he assumed the center of the cloud mass was, really having no idea where he was going or what exactly he was looking for. If it was Thor, he assumed the fellow Avenger would have noticed him or at least made his way towards the city.

Several more minutes of useless searching passed, and Tony was starting to get impatient. "Anything?"

_"To your left there is a small energy reading."_

He turned slightly, the light swiveling with him. He walked forward, scanning ahead of him. In the distance he could make out a mound of... something lying on the ground. The muck smacked under the metal of his boots unpleasantly as he approached, and now just feet away from the figure, he noticed the silhouette looked almost humanoid. He shone the light on the dark frame, bending down to get a better look. They were half on their side, more-so front first in the mud. It was definitely a person. Pitch-black hair contrasted against a familiar white face. He reached his hand out, carefully moving them onto their back. The figure didn't stir, but suddenly the gears snapped together and it clicked. It was kind of hard to forget a person who had previously tried to kill you. He nudged the limp figure experimentally and it moaned quietly. Still alive. He wasn't sure to think if that was a good or bad thing.

"Jarvis, is this who I think it is?" It was more of a rhetorical question, but Jarvis replied anyway.

_"If you're wondering whether or not that is Mr. Odinson, then yes, it would seem so."_

"Well," he said, half in disbelief. Shit."


	2. Chapter 2

The Iron Man mask flipped up, and his face was immediately pelted with rain. He squinted through it, wincing a bit as he peered cautiously at the man who was _definitely_ the guy who had previously thrown him out his window. Despite the familiar features of his appearance, he looked much different than he had almost a year ago. His face was much more hollowed out, casting boney shadows across his face. Along with the starved state he seemed to be in, there was no ignoring the scars, bleeding gashes, and swollen joints his body harbored.

Tony felt himself becoming queasy. He was never one for gore, especially not since his time in the Middle East. He was snapped out of his undesirable memories by a sudden crack of thunder overhead, and he snapped his head back up to the sky. The aurora rippled uneasily. As he brought his gaze back down to the familiar trickster god, he recoiled slightly as he found a pair of wide green eyes staring back at him. Knowing the destruction the god had unleashed on New York a mere year ago, any man in his right mind would have jumped away in fear, or at least out of cautiousness. Tony Stark however was never a man of much caution. There was something in those eyes, though, that kept him near. Loki, god of lies and mischief, the person who had the guts to try and take over Earth, and when he failed, ask for a drink, looked up at him with a pair of terrified, panicked eyes.

Tony's eyebrows creased with confusion, and Loki flinched away, mistaking his confusion for anger. This was not the same fearless Æsir who wielded an ego to rival his own.

He opened his mouth to speak to the shuddering deity, but he was cut off by the raging storm as yet another crack of thunder boomed. Loki's shivering suddenly stopped as he squeezed his eyes shut, and Tony leaned forward a bit with concern. The wind and rain raged over them.

Tony tried to shout over the wind once again. "Loki?" The tired eyes fluttered back open, head turning towards his voice only slightly, hesitantly. Tony moved towards him slowly, but at the first glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye, Loki scrambled away. His face took on a pained expression as he shoved himself up onto his boney elbows, putting a few feet between them considerably quickly considering his state of wellbeing. Tony watched patiently as he clambered away, finally collapsing onto a seated position a distance away. He watched quietly as he sat there, struggling for breath and keeping his frantic eyes on the Avenger all the while. They both stayed like this for a while, the mortal crouching on the soft ground, calm in the storm, and the god regaining his breath across from him.

The thing Tony noticed most however, watching as Loki protectively half glared at him, was how tired the hollow darkness cast across his face made him look, rain droplets dripping down it all the while, mixing with blood.

He called out again, "You remember me, right?" He got no response beside the small release of tension in the Æsir's shoulders. "You know, the guy you threw out a window?" The attempt of establishing a lighter mood was met with another violent flinch. He tried to move closer, but the man instantly shrunk back, breathing hard and hugging his knees to his chest. Some of Loki's exposed wounds began oozing blood under the stretch of his skin. Tony mentally facepalmed. Why didn't anyone understand humor at all?

Tony paused again, waiting quietly. His breathing steadily returned to normal, and despite that his blazing green eyes were no longer watching him directly; he knew Loki was keeping track of him from the corners of his eyes. He decided to keep it simple. "You're hurt," he stated as gently as he could while still being heard over the winds. The green eyes snapped back to him, eyebrows creased, but still cautious. Tony scooted a bit closer, thunder echoing overhead.

Loki curled even more tightly into himself in response to the noise. However, he didn't move as Tony came to sit next to him, watching quietly as Loki shuddered and looked into the ground immersed in puddles. He slowly set his iron-clad hand on Loki's shoulder only to have him jump and slide out from under the touch. He didn't move any further away however, tiredly slumping over his tucked in knees and once again watching with piercing eyes.

Tony frowned, backing off. The eyes fluttered half closed for a moment, but the tiredness surrendered to alertness.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Loki's eyes wavered slightly, and he fidgeted. Tony moved a bit closer again, watching his reactions carefully. He was looking down again; shoulders slumped and head low. Tony placed his hand on his shoulder again attentively, taken by surprise as Loki's eyes fluttered shut and he collapsed tiredly into his arm, out cold. Tony picked the god up, concerningly easily.

He stood, looking up at the still pouring rainclouds. "Jarvis, get Banner on the phone. Tell him party at my place."


	3. Chapter 3

Tony rocketed back to the tower as quickly as possible. All things said, this was definitely the last thing he had expected to get involved in. There was no time to lose, and it helped that the storm had begun to calm. As soon as they had moved away from the eye of the cyclone, the winds and rain died down to only a slow shower. Although the weather was much improved, the Norse god's breathing only seemed shakier, considering he was sopping wet and the wounds refused to stop bleeding.

Tony touched down carefully onto the landing pad, stumbling over to the glass doors of the balcony's entryway. Another thing he hadn't been expecting- willingly allowing the god with a "bag of cats" for a brain back into his tower. He was pretty sure this was where he had offered Loki a drink in the first place. Oh, the irony. He had a bit of trouble getting the door open, cracking some the glass in the process. He brushed the slight frustration off; it was the least of his problems at the moment. He carried the god in and out of the rain. Trudging to one of the couches limp god in hand, he set Loki down cautiously, unsure if it was a good idea to leave his side even momentarily. Loki's breath remained labored, but his condition seemed to stay constant.

"Jarvis!" He called up at the ceiling, clomping back outside. As the robotic landing pad removed his armor, the rain rushed down relentlessly. Running back into the dry tower, he noticed that the previously white carpet and couch were now either stained with muddy water or crimson droplets. His eyes snapped back to the pale mess of a person who was probably oozing magic blood onto his couch. "I hope you got a hold of Banner."

_"He was confused at first, but said he will probably arrive in around ten to fifteen minutes. __I did not mention much about the situation as the line wasn't secure, but he is aware that the circumstance is urgent."_

Tony nodded slightly, "Good." He gravitated back towards the couch alertly, trying to figure out which way would be best to move the god. He had a good amount of gashes and bruises, accompanied, of course, with the blood. The armor served as a bit of a buffer, but there was really no perfect option. With a grunt, he hoisted the god back up into his arms. Tony went stumbled down the hallway, complaining all the way. "You're skinny as fuck, but it still feels like you have bricks in your pockets. What the hell."

* * *

Honestly, when Banner was woken up at two by his cell phone ringing, he wasn't surprised at the least by who (technically) was calling. He was a bit confused at first, groggily wondering why he was talking to Jarvis in the early hours of the morning. Chances were Tony was probably passed out, drunk in some ally. It's happened before.

_"Hello, Mister Banner." _Came Jarvis's steady voice. _"I apologize for waking you up at such an early hour, but it seems there is a situation."_

"Yeah...?" He answered, inhaling a deep breath and running his fingers through his hair. He would at least like some time to wake up before being shoved into one of Tony's crazy plots. Of course, this rarely happened. "What did Tony do this time?"

"_I think you may be surprised when I say the transpiring events had little to do with Mister Stark's actions._"

There was a small silence from the other end, "Yeah, you got me there." He continued, rubbing his temples. "If Tony hasn't done anything, what could he possibly need me for? It's 2am for crying out loud."

"_The line we are speaking on is open, Mister Banner, Though you should know Mister Stark requested you for your medical expertise._"

"... Just let me get some pants on, and I'll be over," he sighed.

The AI replied pleasantly, "_I will inform Mister Stark._"

* * *

"_Sir_, _of all things I would expect you to at _least_ know your way to the infirmary by now._"

"Like I said, not helping, Jarvis," Tony answered, seething. He had somehow ended up at an unfamiliar, 4-way perpendicular hallway. He was pretty much kicking himself for programing Jarvis with a personality similar to his own.

"_To the left, the third door you come across._" The ceiling answered smugly.

"_Thank you,_" he emphasized, rolling his eyes. He hauled the dead weight in his arms the last few yards, huffing with apparent exhaustion. The sliding door opened obediently, and the two went stumbling in. Lugging a god around really does a number on your back.

Tony was able to make it to the infirmary's bed before his arms fell off, luckily. His movements were still cautious and attentive as he began accessing the wounds. There was no way in hell he was a doctor, but he could at least try to do something while waiting for Banner. The injuries were pretty gruel, and gave him an unnerved, queasy feeling. He was never one able to stomach much gore and blood, but he didn't have much of a choice at this point. Leaning in, he picked out some shrapnel from a part of the god's armor, Loki's breath shaking as the metal shard was pulled from his flesh. The armor Loki had been wearing obviously hadn't protected him from many of the injuries.

As soon as he removed the chip of armor, whatever had healed around it began to bleed more fiercely than before. Cussing, he tossed the scrap over his shoulder, instead deciding to try and stop blood from escaping the wounds. "Fuck. Sorry. I'm not qualified for this, why am I even here."

"_Sir, Mister Banner has entered the building_."

"Good, send him up here." He added quickly after, "Also, let me talk to him."

"_Audio connection established_."

Tony opened his mouth, intending to greet Bruce, but was cut short by a (slightly) irritated man, who had been rudely woken up at 2:13am. "Tony, what did you do?"

He gawked sarcastically. "Wow, that really hurts, Bruce. Do you always assume I'm the one to ruin things?"

"Especially at these hours? Yes. Yes, I do," Bruce confirmed with a disapproving sigh.

"Okay, fine. You're right. _Usually._ But I didn't do anything this time," He quipped. "Also, please don't flip out. I'm pretty sure the other guy isn't too fond of our guest."

There was a small silence. "...What? Who?" Tony cleared his throat nervously in response. Bruce snorted. "I think I know, considering the way you're acting. But that's practically impossible, Thor took him back to Asgard months ago."

"Well, Reindeer Games is bleeding his magic blood all over my tower, so apparently it's not impossible," Tony muttered, running his fingers through his hair. Only after did he remember the blood on his hands, and felt a shiver go down his spine. "Eh, gross." He let a small silence go between them. "You're sure you're alright with this?" he asked, glancing uncertainly at the shuddering god. If the Hulk made a scene in his tower, especially with the current situation, he doubted there would be any good solutions.

"You asked for my help, Tony," he pointed out. "I can keep the situation under control. I'm in the hallways, be with you in a second," Bruce responded hurriedly.

"_Audio connection ended_," Jarvis reported as the door slid open. Tony looked over his shoulder, a bit of reassurance coming over his features as he met Banner's nod of greeting. The doctor's eyes snapped to Loki, and he froze. He seemed surprised to say the least, his eyebrows knotting as he moved in.

"You weren't kidding," he mumbled under his breath. He moved the god's shuddering face gently towards him, observing all the while. "Thought so. Definitely unconscious." Tony stood back, eerily quiet as Bruce went to work. "Deep puncture wounds, but it doesn't seem like they hit any vital organs, assuming ours are in the same places as theirs. This," he fumbled with the leather straps on the Asgardian garb, "has to come off if I want to get to the injuries."

Tony took his cue, aiding him with the little he could do. A quiet whimper came from the thin figure as the materials were peeled away from his wounds, only irritating the gashes further. The armor Loki had been wearing gave him much more bulk than his body actually had. There was no doubt that the god had been starved, his frame emaciated and pale. If Tony hadn't looked away nauseously, he could have indisputably counted every rib in his torso.

Banner on the other hand had gained an atmosphere of alarm and increased cautiousness. His head abruptly snapped up, the two Avengers locking eyes. "Do you have anything we could hook him up to?" He asked, simultaneously going through drawers of medical supplies to the left.

"Yeah," Tony replied, his voice sounding a bit more strangled than he had meant it to. He reminded himself that it wasn't a time to be concerned with his own uneasiness, quickening his reaction to Bruce's request. By then, the doctor had already started cleaning dirt and grime out of the wounds, needle and thread off to the side. "I'm not really sure how to work this properly," he admitted after a small silence.

"It's alright," the quiet, focused response came. "It can wait until after the wounds are stitched and taken care of. Get a some thick blankets, something warm." Tony went to rummage through a closet in an adjacent room as Banner continued to close up a nasty gash, which gaped along the god's stomach. Despite his adept and careful hands, it was hard to avoid aggravating the various broken ribs under the skin, especially as the blood stickied his fingers. Tony returned quickly, paling a bit as he watched. Bruce glanced up at him worriedly.

"You don't look too good, Tony," he said simply. Tony almost laughed at the irony of it. He was that last person Bruce should be worrying about. "Sit this one out, I'll tell you if anything happens."

"I would normally argue," Tony replied drifting towards the doorframe, "but I'd probably end up getting in the way anyway. I'm a billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, not a doctor." He paused, pursing his lips as he lingered at the exit. "Jarvis is online. I'll be around if I'm needed."

"Thank you, Tony," Bruce concluded the conversation with a nod, turning back his work as Loki moaned softly. Tony took the hint, leaving the room and making a beeline towards the bar. Hell of a night. His whole being felt the stick of blood although only his hands were tarnished. Tony bothered only to rinse them off before taking a bottle of vodka from the shelves of liquor, sitting at the counter and taking a long swig. "Damn," he voiced faintly, running his fingers through his hair.


End file.
